


Skip the Last Dance For Me (the Trojan Horse remix)

by justadreamfox



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Remix 2020, Fluff and Sweetness and Sass, Healing, M/M, POV Neil Josten, We're All Friends Here, raven/trojan AU, seasoned with a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27519439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox/pseuds/justadreamfox
Summary: Neil and Jean are free of the Nest, and wearing the Trojan red and gold, but they've still got "normal" life to navigate and friendships (past and present) to juggle.Really, sometimes you just want to be alone with your boyfriend.Ft. Exy, pizza, and Steven Spielberg.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Jean Moreau
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93
Collections: AFTG Remix 2020





	Skip the Last Dance For Me (the Trojan Horse remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApprenticedMagician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticedMagician/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Skip the Last Dance For Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061503) by [ApprenticedMagician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticedMagician/pseuds/ApprenticedMagician). 



> Happy Remix to [ApprenticedMagician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticedMagician/) ( and [nekojita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekojita/) since I stole your gift fic )!
> 
> Biggest of thank yous to our OG author [ApprenticedMagician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApprenticedMagician/) for letting me onto their playground...I loved writing this!

They’d been benched since the middle of the third quarter, and Neil was getting bored. Well, not bored - he was never bored when there was exy - he’d just rather be on the court than sitting on the sidelines. He could watch the game - and he was - but it was disconcerting to see Kevin charge the court in bright orange, his racket gripped confidently in his right hand, just as it was confusing to align himself with the red and gold instead of Raven black. It had only been six months. Some days it felt like six minutes. Some days it felt like six years. 

“Fuck, marry, kill?” Neil murmured to Jean in French. They always spoke French when it was just the two of them. It felt like theirs, something that belonged to them even in the middle of hell when they’d had nothing and no one aside from each other. Besides - somehow not one of the Trojans spoke French and it gave them privacy when they wanted it. 

Like now, when Neil wanted to play fuck, marry, kill. 

“Really Neil?” Jean was the only one who called Nathaniel _Neil,_ and it filled Neil with warmth every time _._ Jean arched an elegant eyebrow at him as he waited. Neil loved that look on Jean’s face, how expressive they were allowed to be, now. A stray raised eyebrow in the Nest would have been an excuse for punishment. Here, it was an excuse for Neil to grin at his boyfriend. 

“Really. Here, I’ll start.” Neil looked out over the court. They were in the final quarter of their first game against the Foxes since Riko had been killed, since Kevin had led a rescue mission into the nest with Andrew Minyard and Renee Walker at his side, since Jean and Neil had become Trojans, taken in by the sunshine boy himself, one Jeremy Knox. Which was as good a place to start as any. “Jeremy Knox, Andrew Minyard, Renee Walker.”

“I hate you,” Jean muttered. 

“You don’t though,” Neil said. 

“Fine. Fuck Jeremy, kill Minyard, marry Renee,” Jean said with little hesitation. 

“Jeremy Knox, hmm?” Neil smirked. 

“Oh you think that’s funny? Your turn: Kevin Day, Matt Boyd, Sara Alvarez.”

Neil hummed. Kevin scored while he was watching and the Trojan crowd groaned dramatically. “Fuck Kevin, kill Boyd, marry Alvarez.”

“Seriously? What did Boyd ever do to you?” 

“He’s just so...big. I wouldn’t know what to do with him.”

“He is literally the same height as me,” Jean scoffed.

“Yeah, but.” Neil put his hands out in front of them and held them wide. “Matt,” he said, then narrowed the gap by half and said, “you. Big difference.”

“Whatever. I’m going to tell Kevin you said you’d fuck him,” Jean said, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“You wouldn’t,” Neil said, shoving into his shoulder and eyeing Kevin where he stood now next to the Fox’s tiny, devastatingly talented goalkeeper. “Besides, you’d fuck him too.” 

Jean looked offended. “You are the only one I am fucking or planning to fuck."

“How romantic,” Neil laughed, and Jean rolled his eyes. “Okay fine, how about...Dan Wilds, Laila Dermott, and Nicky Hemmick.”

“Oh my god, why are you doing this to me? You know I’ll retaliate.” 

“Avoiding the question,” Neil said. 

“Yes, it’s a godawful question.”

Neil just grinned. 

Jean sighed dramatically. “Fuck Wilds, kill Hemmick, marry Laila.”

“Quite a harem of wives you are collecting Jean, should I be concerned?”

Jean turned to look straight at him, slid his hand along the bench until their fingers brushed together. “No,” he said, grey eyes serious. 

Neil wanted to kiss him. But he didn’t - wouldn’t - not here. He brushed his thumb lightly over Jean’s knuckles instead.

“You aren’t getting off that lightly. Last one. Me, Andrew Minyard, and Allison Reynolds.”

“You can’t say yourself,” Neil protested.

“Oh? And is that written in blood in the elusive rulebook of Fuck, Marry, Kill?” Jean’s eyebrow lifted again, and Neil groaned. 

“Ugh. Okay.” Neil couldn’t keep his gaze from drifting to the Fox in the number 3 jersey who’d been all but shutting down the goal all night. “Fuck Andrew, kill Reynolds, marry you - obviously.”

“Obviously is it?” Jean gazed at him. “I may be collecting spouses, but you have a competency kink. Kevin and Andrew?”

Neil grinned. “They are just really good at exy.”

“By the way, did you just propose to me?” Jean teased. 

“Of course,” Neil said amicably. “I mean, you’re really good at exy too.”

Jean snorted softly and leaned into Neil, their shoulder pads bumping. On the court Jeremy scored on Andrew, and the bench rumbled as their teammates stood and cheered. The Foxes and the Trojans were tied 4-4 with five minutes left in the game, but Nicky Hemmick was down and didn’t show signs of getting up. Play was halted, and when the Fox’s backliner finally hobbled off to good natured cheers, Coach Rhemann pointed at them and then the court - “Moreau, Wesninski, you’re up!”

Connors and Anderson clacked sticks with them as they jogged on court to take up position. Neil glanced back over his shoulder to see Jean facing off ten feet from Kevin before he turned back to his corner of the court, to the affable grin of Matt Boyd as he squared off against Neil, and the bored hazel gaze of Andrew Minyard beyond him in goal. 

Neil took a breath. They were tied four to four. Let it out evenly. He was a Trojan. Trojans didn’t get red cards. Took in a breath. Let it out evenly. Most of the Foxes were friends. Four to four. He wasn’t sure what that meant. Friends. He was working on it, though. Jeremy whistled softly, parallel to him on court, squared up against the other Minyard. Red and gold. Trojan. Exy. 

The buzzer trilled and Kevin snapped the ball. Neil took off down the court, eyes flicking to Jean, to Jeremy, to Kevin, aware of the hulking height of Boyd on his heels. Alvarez interfered with Kevin’s shot, and Neil was across the court before she lobbed it, scooping it out of the air and twisting without a full step to dodge Boyd. He was a Trojan. Five steps, and Reynolds was low and coming for him. A whistle, Neil threw eyes, Jeremy keeping pace, and he stopped, spun, flung the ball at his captain. Jeremy grinned fiercely, caught it on a rebound, and Neil sprinted, because he was a Trojan and Jeremy wasn’t Riko, which means he might actually want to pass, would actually let Neil score, would actually - there it was, Jeremy had hit ten steps, rebounded, Aaron Minyard in his face and then Jeremy’s whistle again. 

The ball popped to Neil’s net like a magnet, and he dropped low and sprinted, two - three - four - five - six, and Boyd probably expected he’d take four more steps, get closer to the goal, take his shot, but instead Neil lunged to the side and forward in one long leap, hit his knees, and then slammed his racket up and forward, launching the ball home to the top left edge of the goal box just a whisper past Andrew’s outstretched racket. The wall lit red, sending the arena into an uproar, and Neil’s lips curled into a fiercely defiant smile. 

Andrew turned to look at the goal for a moment, before turning back to Neil, taking the four steps to him that’d he’d feinted in his shot. Neil was still on his knees, and Andrew was looking down at him, face impassive. The final buzzer rang, the crowd exploded in cheers, and Andrew reached out a gloved hand. Neil looked at it, confused, before taking it, and Andrew hauled him to his feet. Neil was a Trojan. Andrew was a Fox. “Good shot,” he said blandly, before walking away, and Neil was swept up in the celebration of his teammates. 

They were going on to semi-finals, and Neil couldn’t quite manage to feel any kind of way about it. Jeremy slung an arm around his shoulders as Laila and Alveraz slammed into him, Connors and Anderson and the freshman striker Lorna Rivers surrounded him, everyone wanting a piece because the last shot had been Neil’s. Not Riko’s. He was a Trojan. 

He swept the court with his eyes for Jean, finally saw him near their goal, helmet off, Kevin’s head tilted towards him and serious. Neil shoved his way out of his celebrating teammates swiftly and carefully, forced himself to walk and not run, getting to Jean’s side as quickly as he could without causing a scene. 

“Kevin,” Neil said, when he reached them, sidling close to Jean, arm pressed up against arm as much as Neil could manage through their padding. Neil didn’t mind his height, not really, but occasionally he thought it might be easier if Jean wasn’t a foot taller than him. Jean switched his helmet to his other hand and leaned back into Neil. 

“Hi Nathaniel,” Kevin said softly, flicking his gaze to where Jean had gripped Neil’s hand, before looking at Neil. He looked good - dark hair plastered to his forehead, green eyes clear and intense and so achingly familiar. Andrew slid into place next to him after a moment, and then Renee was there too. It was the holy trinity of their saviors and it was almost blinding to look at. 

Jean was stiff next to him and all five of them were quiet, the noises of the stadium fading away to white noise and it was just too fucking much. They weren’t there yet, weren’t ready to say the things that needed to be said. Neil didn’t even know what those things were, wasn’t sure he ever would know. Kevin had left them, but Kevin had also charged back into the Nest, flanked by a devil and an angel and the full force of the ERC at his back, a hard won deal with the Moriyama’s clenched tightly in his fist. 

Kevin had left them. Kevin had come back for them. This was all still too much. 

Renee spoke first. “We’re not flying out until tomorrow. Both teams are going out to a bar - Jeremy’s idea of course. We’d really like it if you joined us.” She was smiling kindly, looking at Jean. Neil knew Andrew was looking at him, could feel that piercing golden gaze trying to tear him apart. He ignored it, eyes on Kevin, Kevin’s on him. 

“We’ll think about it,” Neil said finally, and because he still couldn’t tear his gaze away from Kevin he saw the tiny shrink of his shoulders, the twitch in the corner of his eyes. Because he couldn’t tear his gaze away he saw Andrew’s hand come up, saw him grip Kevin’s elbow. So it was like that. Neil wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t begrudge it. It had been Neil and Kevin and Jean, and then Kevin had left them, and now it was Neil and Jean, and there was no room for anything else. Not like it was. 

Their awkward circle broke up, Renee still smiling her soft smile as she walked away, Andrew’s face impassive but clearly far from indifferent as he turned Kevin by his elbow, let his hand run down Kevin’s arm, wrapped fingers around his wrist and squeezed once before letting go and herding him to the lineup. Good. It was good. 

Jean let out a shaky breath. Neil bumped into his arm. “Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day, Renee Walker.” 

Jean startled into a low laugh. “You, Neil. I’d fuck you, marry you, kill you. Just you.” 

Neil grinned. “It’s because I’m good at exy, right?” 

“Brat,” Jean huffed, brushing the back of Neil’s neck with gloved fingertips as they lined up to shake hands with the Foxes. 

Neil and Jean were fast and efficient in the locker room - a Raven habit they’d yet to break. They’d never had the privilege of hiding their scars, and it was self preservation to not be lingering last in the showers when Riko was bored or angry. They were out of the showers first, dressed in soft, clean clothes, hair damp around their collars, side by side on a bench waiting for their team, waiting for Coach Rhemann to give his talk, waiting for Jeremy and Laila and Alvarez to be friendly and nice and ask them to join in and - 

“We should go,” Jean said in French, breaking Neil out of his thoughts. 

Neil waited a beat. He didn’t need to ask what Jean meant. He always knew what Jean meant. “Do you want to go?” Neil asked. 

“I don’t want to talk to anyone who isn’t you for at least 48 hours,” Jean huffed. “But we should go,” he insisted again. 

Neil turned to look into Jean’s stormy eyes, searched his face. “Nah, I have other plans,” he said finally. 

Jean raised both eyebrows at that. “Do you.” 

“Sure.” 

“But-” Jean started. 

“Listen,” Neil said, seriously, intently. “We don’t have to. That’s the whole point Jean - we aren’t Ravens anymore. We don’t have to go. Kevin will understand. There will be other times. It doesn’t have to be now.” 

Jean snorted. “Are we talking about the same Kevin? I am not sure he will understand.” 

“Fine, he’ll get over it then. Minyard will soothe his hurt sensibilities,” Neil said. 

Jean hummed, looking off into the distance. Their teammates started crashing into the room, and Neil dropped it, but when they’d been released, when they’d been pounded on the back and grinned at and their ears were ringing from the joyous whoops of their teammates, Andrew was waiting for them in the hallway, alone. 

“Nathaniel,” he said, inclining his head to the side. That incline said _this way._ That incline said, _just you, not Jean._ Neil hesitated. 

“Go,” Jean said. “I’ll wait outside.” 

Neil followed Andrew to the now empty court, trash littered in the stands, half the lights out. They stood by the plexiglass. Neil waited. It was at least a minute before Andrew said, “You two are not coming tonight.” 

“No,” Neil agreed. It was another minute, and Andrew was very still beside him. 

“He talks about you both,” Andrew said finally.

“Okay,” Neil said, but Andrew didn’t say anything else, staring out at the court. Neil wasn’t entirely sure what Andrew was trying to say. “You don’t do this much do you?” he asked. 

That got a glance his way, a brief golden gaze on him. This close Neil saw the movement, the emotion in his eyes. His eyes were alight. Andrew clenched his jaw. Neil watched him. From his father, to the Nest, from trying to survive, Neil had learned how to watch, how to see. He saw Andrew, saw that he was a rock to lean on. He was what Kevin needed. He was what Kevin deserved. 

It clicked, then. Andrew was here for Kevin. Some dead corner of Neil’s heart stretched and ached and sighed and then eased a bit. Neil looked away, looked at the court. Thought about Jean waiting for him. Thought about Kevin’s green eyes, the shocking chess piece stark on his cheek. “It’s not never. It’s just...it’s just not yet,” Neil said quietly. Firmly. Calmly. 

Andrew hummed softly, so softly Neil almost thought he imagined it, and then the stoic goalie nodded once and walked away. 

Neil waited a beat, staring out over the court. He was a Trojan. He pulled out his phone, pulled up one of his new apps, tapped at it, and went to find Jean. 

It was only a ten minute walk back to the dorms. As luck - or as Jeremy - would have it, Jean and Neil shared a room. It was three times the size of their dark, depressing rooms at the Nest, with not just one window but two, with an ensuite bathroom and small sitting area, with two desks and two beds and a working lock on their door. To them, it was heaven. To them, it still didn’t seem real, that they got to do this, play hooky from a team event - even if said event was drinking copious amounts of alcohol at a sticky college bar. They were allowed. 

Safe in their room Jean let out a heavy sigh, dropped his bag and sat on Neil’s bed. Neil followed, stepped between his knees and slid his hands along Jean’s neck, grinned when Jean’s steady hands settled on Neil’s waist. This was allowed too. This was something that was theirs, now, something that had been unexplored, untouched; something that could have been used against them in the Nest. 

Neil brushed a thumb across Jean’s cheekbone, then pressed it into the roman numeral four inked there. “Have you thought about changing this?” 

“Like Kevin?” 

“Yeah,” Neil agreed. 

Jean reached up for Neil’s cheek, and Neil knew Jean was covering the small three below his eye. “What would we get, do you suppose, hmm? More chess pieces?” 

Neil laughed softly, and leaned into Jean’s hand. “A trojan horse?” he suggested. 

“An exy ball?” 

“Wouldn’t that just be like, a circle?” 

“Yeah, but we’d know what it is.” 

“Could put a little baguette,” Neil said, caressing Jean’s cheek, stepping closer to his warmth. 

Jean snorted. “Ass.”

“A croissant then?”

Jean huffed, but he wrapped an arm around the back of Neil’s waist, pulling him tighter. “We could just have them removed,” he said quietly. 

“Is that what you want?” Neil asked, tucking his face into Jean’s neck, ghosting a kiss on his throat. They were almost the same height, like this. 

“I don’t know,” Jean said, tilting his head to give Neil better access. “Maybe it is.” 

Neil kissed his jaw, brushed his lips lightly over the faint stubble there. “Okay, then we’ll do that.” 

Jean drew in a quick breath when Neil traced his ear with the tip of his tongue. “You don’t have to do what I do,” Jean said. 

“Don’t I?” Neil asked, pulling back to look into Jean’s eyes. 

“Of course not,” Jean said, gaze dropping to Neil’s lips. 

“But I want to, Jean. Whatever you want. I want that,” Neil said, and he leaned closer and kissed Jean. Softly. So softly, so slowly, so carefully. They were learning to be soft, learning that it was what they wanted, what they needed. It was the opposite of the Nest. It was just them, the two of them. Neil wanted Jean, and Jean wanted Neil, and this was allowed. 

Neil pressed into Jean, pushing him back on the bed, climbed over him, swept his tongue against Jean’s sweetly, sighed against his lips when Jean’s hands slid up his sides, and Neil had almost forgotten that he’d had a plan when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

“Oh!” Neil pulled back and sat up, straddling Jean’s thighs as he dug his phone out of his pocket. 

“Oh?” Jean repeated, his eyes lidded and soft, his hands warm on Neil’s thighs. “You have somewhere else to be?”

“I do!” Neil said, hopping up. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Jean frowned at him, but he obediently tucked his hands behind his head and settled into the bed as Neil bounced out of the room. He was in the exact same position when Neil pushed the door open with his hip five minutes later, a giant pizza box in hand and a happy grin on his face. 

Jean sat up. “Neil!” 

“Jean!” 

“Is it-” 

“Yep, beef and tomato and feta thin crust,” Neil confirmed. 

“But you hate it,” Jean said. 

“I’m not a martyr,” Neil said.

“You got pineapple on the other half.” 

Neil smiled. “I got pineapple on the other half.”

“Gross,” Jean scoffed but he looked pleased. Maybe it was dumb, but they’d never had pizza before coming to the Trojans, and neither of them had gotten over the novelty it. Neil put the pizza on their little coffee table and retrieved his laptop and their movie list from his desk. Jeremy had almost fainted when he’d realized that Neil and Jean had collectively seen less than five movies in their whole lives, and a week later he’d presented them with a handwritten list that had been passed around the Trojans, detailing all the movies that they - according to Jeremy and the Trojans - absolutely must see as soon as possible. There were over a hundred titles on it, with little descriptions next to them, and they’d only made it through about ten so far. 

Jean plopped next to Neil on the couch, peering over this list. “This was your plan for the night?” 

Neil nodded. “I know it’s nothing amazing but-” Jean shut him up with a kiss, tugging him close by his shirt, and Neil only startled for a moment before closing his eyes, kissing him back, reveling in Jean’s lips and tongue and warmth.

“It’s perfect, it’s exactly what I wanted,” Jean murmured when he pulled back, resting his forehead on Neil’s for a moment before turning back to peruse the list. “How about ‘bitey murder shark’,” he said, pointing at JAWS scrawled in Laila’s purple pen. 

“Perfect,” Neil agreed, setting up the movie on his laptop and handing Jean a slice of his gross pizza before grabbing a slice of pineapple for himself. Neil snuggled into his boyfriend’s side as the opening credits rolled out, and it was perfect. Absolutely perfect. 


End file.
